


Love of the Mind

by MadMags



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Castiel Does Not Care About Gender Norms, Castiel in Alternate Vessels, Dean Winchester Has a Sexuality Crisis, Diners, F/M, Good Sibling Sam Winchester, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Secrets, Temporary Character Death, Vessels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMags/pseuds/MadMags
Summary: Cassie Shurley is killed by an oil tanker truck, but Cas had a secret - she wasn't human.AKA I had a weird dream about aliens coming to earth and using human vessels. Dean coming to terms with his sexuality is a perfect trope to explore whether we really fall in love with a mind or a body. Because we all know Dean would love Cas no matter what shape he was, right?WARNING FOR POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING LANGUAGE. Nothing outside canon-typical, but just a heads up.





	Love of the Mind

Cassie enjoyed her simple life. Her ‘apple pie’ life as some of her regulars called it. Others called it the American dream, she had learned. Old men in the diner would tease her about settling down the town’s most eligible bachelor. They’d ask when she and Dean were having kids, and inform her they should get married properly in the church. The comments made her smile, but inside she was afraid.

Dean had made her life a happy one, but she had a secret. She wasn’t from Earth. Cassie was a celestial being of energy from a dying planet light years away, living the body of a comatose woman – Cassandra Shurley. Earth had been one of several planets that the Angels were sent to colonize and rebuild their people.

She’d become distracted by her prime mission as she had assimilated into human life.

She was caught staring at the white flakes coming down in a flurry on a hazy Thursday morning.

“Cas,” Ellen said, sounding exasperated. “Cassie?” 

She jumped at the hand on her shoulder. “Oh? Sorry,” she said, realizing Ellen had been calling after her.

“Come have a cup of coffee, hon,” Ellen said, leading her towards the table usually reserved for staff use. Cassie gave her a wan smile and gracefully accepted the black coffee. She had grown to enjoy the bitter flavor. “Everything alright?”

She nodded, but it wasn’t quite a yes or no.

“Snow is new for me,” she admitted. “It’s beautiful.”

“I imagine it is, hon,” Ellen said, patting her hand. “You’ve been in South Dakota how long?”

Cassie blinked, and her heart started to pound in her chest.

“N-nine months,” she stammered softly. 

“You’ll get used to it. Just make sure Dean checks over your car and make sure you’re all ready for winter. We’ll have Joanna Beth back over the holidays. It’ll be nice to have the extra help.”

Help wanted. Ellen’s little sign had changed Cassie’s life. The sign had shone bright and drew her in. Then the smells, she was hungry. And Dean. 

Her eyes glowed with the energy of her true self as she turned away from Ellen. She placed a hand over her racing heart. Someday she’d slip, and someone would discover she wasn’t who she pretended. The worst part was, she wanted someone to know. She wanted Dean to know, to spill her secrets to him. 

***

She tried for the first time as they ate dinner out of cardboard cartons. Dean had called it Chinese food, apparently a sort of cuisine from another part of the world. They were watching a movie, but she couldn't focus.

“Dean?” she said, setting aside the cashew chicken.

“Hmm?” he hummed around a bite of noodles. His brows rose above brilliant green eyes. She watched the light of the television dance over his freckled cheeks.

Cassie’s heart began to thud. She wanted to tell him. Needed to tell him. He deserved to know, and she wasn’t ashamed to be an Angel, an alien. She was intelligent in some ways and hopeless in others. She loved Dean. She had despaired at the loss of her friends and family, but he was her family now. She was no longer a seraph of her people.

“I- I um,” she tried, but felt her face warm as she ducked her head. “I’m just really happy. You make me... very happy.”

Dean beamed at her, setting aside his own food to wrap his strong arms around her. He nuzzled against her cheek. He smelled warm and masculine. His stubble scraped gently at her skin. She sighed in pleasure as his lips caressed her throat. Human bodies, vessels, were so much different than the life she'd had before.

“I’m really happy I’ve got you, too, Cas,” he murmured. “I love you, you know that?”

“I- yes,” she said. “I love you too.”

He pulled back to tug her off the sofa, leading her towards their bedroom. She was always a bit shy starting out, no matter how many times he looked at her like she was the sun and stars, but he made her feel like a being of light and energy again as he took her to bed, making her soul sing. She still had to shield her eyes, closed tightly in fear of being found out. She was human now. She had to be, for Dean.

***

It was all fairy tale perfect. One day, Dean woke her up with a surprise.

“Morning, sunshine!” he chirped, carrying a tray.

It had a wilting flower in a plastic cup from a fun run eight years ago (belonging to Dean's brother Sam), but a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast were a welcome sight. Nestled by the silverware was a small box. It revealed a shiny ring with a blue gem the color of Cassie’s eyes.

However, she still hadn’t told him the truth. She wondered if she should every day, but she had learned about mental hospitals, humanity’s view on extraterrestrial life. She wanted to believe that Dean would believe her, but she feared watching the love drain from his eyes. Love becoming replaced with fear, confusion, anger.

Her stomach fluttered every time she thought about it. She placed her pale, well worked hands over her stomach, loathing her human body and the physical reactions to emotions. Once she had been in awe of even negative reactions, but time had made her complacent in the vessel.

“I just need some time,” Cassie whispered, covering Dean’s calloused hands. His face pinched in pain. “I swear, it’s a yes, but I need time. You get that, right?”

He didn’t look at her, but he nodded.

“Right,” he muttered.

“Dean.”

“No,” he said, mouth thick with rejection. “No, of course you do. Take all the time you need, Cassie. I love you, and I’ll wait until you’re sure.” His eyes were wet, making the green shine like a being from her home world. He didn't let the tears fall. She wanted to put that beautiful smile back on his face. 

***

She never got the chance to come clean.

Cassandra Shurley died on a slick highway driving home after a late dinner shift on an icy spring night. An oil tanker side-swiped her tiny red car and both went up in a blast of flames. The angel, the seraph, the energy being that had been Cassie, threw herself from the vessel on impact. It had been an instinctual reaction. Brilliant blue light was thrown from the flames, and crashed into electrical wires for lack of a human body nearby. 

She wiped power out for most of the town.

It was a diminished existence, being her ‘true self’. The energy wasn’t enough any longer. She had a name and a life! But her vessel was gone. Exposing herself as she was would burn the eyes out of humans, her true voice would cause their ears to bleed.

It took weeks for her to find a hospital that hosted an appropriate vessel.

As Cassie awoke in the new vessel, the only thoughts in her mind were of Dean. Of returning home, to him and the diner and their impending marriage, and telling him she was alive. Her new vessel was responding slower than the first time. It wasn’t until she looked at the tired face in the mirror that she felt her dreams going up in tanker-fueled flames.

The same blue eyes stared back, but they were set in the face of a man with dark hair that was a bit too long. His chin was stubbled, and his mouth turned down as Cassie studied herself.

Himself.

For the Angels, gender was non-existent. They were a genderless race. But Cassie had learned that humanity cared a lot about looks, in gender presentation, in sexuality and sexual orientation. He knew that Dean had loved his female vessel’s body. He loved to stroke her soft wavy hair that had grown long. He had lavished compliments over her small breasts, her hips, and her smile.

She'd learned that Dean thought she was “hot”. 

For Cassie, the face wasn’t a problem for him, or her. It was an attractive human face, though a bit older than his last vessel. As he studied himself in the mirror, he didn’t find the vessel displeasing. He tried to see himself as Dean would see him. He looked tired. Male. It was a body though. He was alive. He had a vessel. Dean would be safe from his true form, and that had to be enough.

“Oh!” a nurse exclaimed seeing the coma patient awake and out of his bed.

It took several doctors visiting, a therapist, and a lawyer to reclaim what the vessel had to his name. Cassie didn’t want to adopt the new name – James “Jimmy” Novak, but it was a small thing in the grand scheme of things. Names could be changed, gender was a more difficult concept.

Dressed in a button down, smoothing it down his flat chest. He had to find out how to go home. He just wanted to go home again.

***

“Jimmy” had a bank account, an SUV and a small apartment in Michigan that Cas gladly abandoned, but the vehicle was enough to get him back to South Dakota from Illinois. 

Weeks after the accident, he pulled up outside the Roadhouse Diner. The help wanted sign had been set out again. He gulped.

New lines had been added to Ellen’s face.

“Excuse me,” he said, still uneasy with the deep growl of this vessel. It was dry and raspy as the permanent scruff on his face.

“You need to order?”

“Actually I’m here-” he cleared his throat. “You’re hiring?”

“We lost one of our cooks awhile back. Do you cook?” Ellen asked, eyeballing him up and down. “We serve a lot of truckers, locals too. I don't need some limp noodle in my kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am. I can cook. Please.”

Cas was not above begging.

***

He’d had to re-earn Ellen’s trust, relearn how to work in the kitchen in the new body. He had to adjust to being just “Jimmy” instead of Cassie. Truthfully, he wanted to go back to being “Cas”, but it didn't felt right to tell everyone else before getting a chance to tell Dean.

It had been a week, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Dean at the diner. He didn't see him at the grocery, at the bar, or any number of regular places they would frequently months ago.

Omelets and pancakes, burgers and fries, meatloaf, fried fish - Cas's world was his menu. His shirt sleeves had been pushed up over strong forearms, and an apron covered his black pants, and the Thing that made him different from before. This vessel was much stronger than the one before.

He dropped a spatula when he heard the painfully familiar voice ordering a burger to-go.  
Cas's heart thudded as he peered through the order window. It had been so long since Cas had heard that voice.

Dean looked as tired and worn as Cas's new vessel, but he shined to Cas's eyes. Cas wasn’t sure what he planned to say to Dean as he left the kitchen to hover at Ellen’s elbow.

“New cook?” Dean asked, raising a brow.

Cas wanted to wipe the dark circles from Dean’s eyes with soothing thumbs. He wanted to kiss his lips and soothe the pain etched into the man’s face. To tell Dean the pain was over, that he was home.

“Yep,” Ellen said, glancing back. She’d waited to replace Cassie, but they needed the extra set of hands. “Jimmy” had seamlessly worked his way into the diner as if he'd always been there.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said dismissively, going to sit and wait for his food.

Cas's body had gone hot then cold. His hands were sweating, and he was rooted to the spot.

“You okay, sugar?”

He shook his head, dread and fear – fear! These hateful emotions were overwhelming him. He was afraid he’d made a mistake in coming back.

Ellen had told him about the funeral, about how the accident had changed the mechanic. Cas straightened his shoulders, determined now that he had laid eyes on his partner. His body trembled as he approached Dean. His breathing was so loud; when did he breathe so loud?! Could Dean hear just how loud his heart was pounding?

“Hey, buddy. You got a problem?”

Cas snapped back to himself. 

“Dean,” he said, the name being torn from him as he nearly collapsed in the chair across from his beloved. 

“Sorry? Do I know you?”

Dean’s brows were furrowed and he was glaring a bit at Cas's awkward, trembling hands.

“Um,” Cas said, trying not to laugh, which was a ridiculous response. Why would he laugh? Maybe this vessel was defective. He scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Listen, man…”

Cas pulled his hands away from his face, tilting his head in the same familiar way, looking exhausted.

“No, I apologize. Did you want blueberry or pecan pie?” Cas lied as though Dean would ever choose blueberry when pecan was on the menu.

“No pie, thanks,” Dean said, glancing back down at his phone, leaving Cas to return to the grill.

After two burned stacks of pancakes, Ellen sent him home. Or rather, to the small rented room he had gotten on “Jimmy's” bank card. He couldn’t go home. Maybe he could never go home again.

***

Another tireless night, hot and summer now, and Cas had a knock on his room door. Thinking it might be the landlord or someone with the wrong room, he opened it without thinking.

He blinked and stared in surprise.

“Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, not making eye contact. 

“Please, come in,” Cas said, a bit breathless. 

He’d forgotten how green Dean’s eyes were and how his eyes crinkled just so. He licked his lips in memory of shared kisses. Of their first tentative brushes of lips that became deep and long passionate tumbles. Dean had shown Cas what his vessel was capable of when he was still new to this planet, to the carbon based life of blood-sweat-and-tears.

He gestured for Dean to take the only chair, sitting on the edge of the bed. He tried to remember to keep his body posture open, accepting. Don’t cross your arms, keep your palms open, he coached himself/

“Cassie,” Dean said, looking wary as he took the chair, pulling it a bit farther away before sitting. He said it, looking for confirmation from the strange man who carried his fiancee's mannerisms on his face. 

Cas nodded, wondering if it was possible for a human heart to stop from exertion. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. 

“You…”

“Yes,” Cas said, as soft as possible. “Cassie. I am, was, her.”

“Impossible,” Dean barked, jerking out of his chair.

Cas nodded again. He frowned harder, fidgeting with his fingernail. Guilt squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“I-” Cas’s voice cracked, and he swallowed back tears. “I always meant to tell you.”

“Tell me what exactly?” Dean snarled, leaning forward. “Who the hell are you? What the hell are you?”

“I- You wouldn't believe me,” Cas replied, staring at the floor.

“What?! Spit it out.” Dean growled and paced like a caged animal.

“Please just… hear me out,” Cas begged. “I’m not human-”

Dean scoffed, stopping abruptly. “Yeah, right.”

“You brought me breakfast the day you proposed. You put chili powder in my eggs. The carnation was wilting, but it’s hard to get fresh flowers when the weather is bad like it was that week. I told you I needed time. That I promised to say yes, but I needed time, Dean!”

“What did you say?” Dean asked, going still at the door. He was poised to leave.

“I know the unlikelihood of you believing me, but I am Cassie Shurley,” Cas replied. 

“Cassie is dead.”

“The body of Cassie is dead. The… soul inside escaped the wreck. It took time to find a new vessel that could hold me, the real me, without burning up from the inside.”

Dean’s eyes blazed as he turned slow. His beautiful face was a mask of fury.

“What are you?”

“You’d call me an alien, an extraterrestrial. I refer to myself and my people as Angels in your language,” Cas spoke, trying to get all the words out before Dean decided he’d heard enough. “Energy beings, our planet was dying, and we w-were sent, to assimilate, to survive… We were hunted, on the verge of extinction. Your planet- humans, Dean, were incredible.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Dean accused heatedly.

“I-I… I meant to. Only it never felt like the right time. We were happy. I swear I just needed time to find the right words, to explain. You knew I was never like normal people.”

“But that doesn't explain why you came back?” Dean snarled.

Cas flinched, averting his eyes. He’d seen men brawl. He’d watched movies of war and fighting. He'd watched men in the diner quarrel over trivial things. Human violence had horrified him. He’d learned that it was frowned upon for men to hit women, but he was no longer a woman. Dean, a mechanic, was a strong man. Cas was no slouch, but he didn't want to hurt Dean.

“I wanted to come home,” he said, body tense as he waited for blows. Pain was his least favorite of human feelings. Next to fear, of course. “I just wanted to come home.”

He heard a sigh and cracked his eyes open.

Dean looked deflated.

“I don’t even know how to handle this, Cas. I buried you,” he said, eyes greener against the redness of tears. “I mourned you. You died. And now, suddenly you're back – and a man?”

“You had no idea I would, could return,” Cas agreed. “I… do not expect for things to return to the way they were. I just couldn’t imagine starting again, to never see you or Charlie or Ellen or Ash again. I understand that humans have… desires for particular genders. I have done research, both before and after the accident.” He stood, causing Dean to back away again. “I understand if you do not find this vessel as aesthetically or sexually compatible, but I am still the same…” He struggled for a word Dean would understand, covering his chest where his true form warmed him. “Soul that you loved. Everything we had was real.”

“Cas.”

“I am sorry. I am so sorry, Dean.” Cas was sick with self-hatred. He wanted to reach out and touch Dean, and for Dean to reassure him. To tell Cas he was loved and that everything would be alright.

“Cas, I need time,” Dean said, holding himself back. “I’m not promising nothin’, hear? But, I need some time to wrap my head around this. All of this.” He gestured, then held out a hand as if to ward Cas away. “But don't disappear on me, alright?”

Cas nodded.

“If it makes you more comfortable, you are welcome to call me Jimmy. It was my vessel’s designated human name,” he replied. “But whatever you’re most comfortable with. I do still prefer Cas. Or Castiel, the Angel of Thursday in Christian mythology.”

Dean just shook his head, looking at the ceiling for answers.

“Pretty sure Christians don't consider it mythology, Cas. What’s your real name?” Dean asked.

Cas chewed his lips.

“It’s difficult to describe in your language. In words. It is like the color blue, and the scent of ozone, and the prickly feeling you get when your foot falls asleep, the sound of a storm just to the east, the sense of someone in a room with you without having to look and see them,” he said, shrugging helplessly. “It's lightning and silver and ephemeral.”

“Man, that’s a hell of a name,” Dean barked out a wet laugh. “I’d be pretty pissed if my parents named me something like that.”

Cas let himself smile softly. He tucked his chin shyly.

“In my other form, your name would feel green like the tips of new leaves, the smell of pie, and the feel of a soft warm quilt on a cold autumn’s day, a mother’s hand holding her son’s hand. Pecan pie and the feel of leather and chrome,” he said, trying to convey the longing. Dean’s name meant home. “I was unable to let go. Nothing else mattered, but coming home to you.”

Dean hadn’t believed it, but there she was. “It’s really you in there.”

Cas’s eyes flicked down, but he nodded, shifting closer. His eyes glowed gently as he gazed at his beloved.

“It’s still me,” he promised. “I still love you, Dean.”

“This is so weird,” Dean muttered, pulling back.

“I’m sorry,” Cas repeated earnestly.

“I am not gay. I don't swing that way,” Dean said angrily, crossing his arms as he paced closer to the door of the sixties styled motel room. The wallpaper was peeling by the door frame. “If other people, well they can, but I'm, I'm not, okay?!”

“I’m sorry. I know, Dean,” Cas repeated, heart breaking in his chest. “I had hoped we might still be friends. That I might buy you a meal, like we used to? Not a date, of course, but as friends. I wanted to be able to answer your questions, to give you closure.”

Dean looked wary. 

“I don’t know, man,” he said, head shaking. He rubbed a hand over his tired face. “Couldn’t have found another chick body?”

Cas’s arms had wrapped around his stomach, over the worn AC/DC tee shirt he’d found in a thrift store that reminded him of Dean, trying to make himself smaller. “A new body isn’t as simple as finding an available one. There must be compatibility. I was also eager to return as soon as possible, and did not consider the consequences.”

Dean sighed. He could see the mannerisms of his girlfriend in the twist of Cas’s fist. He had his socks off, feet bared to the world. Cas had said she liked to feel the ground beneath her feet, the rain on her face, the sun on her skin. Cas’s body was tanned. His lips were fuller than Cassie’s had been, and his eyes were deeper set. Yet there was some familiarity in the features.

“You may text if a meal is too much, too soon,” Cas said softly. “I have a new cell phone. Perhaps you would be more comfortable with a more distant form of communication.”

“Yeah, text me your number,” Dean said, agreeing. “Still remember mine?”

“Yes.”

“Look, ah. I’ve got an early morning at the shop. Bobby'll be on my ass if I'm late.”

“Of course, Dean. I won’t keep you,” Cas said, standing. He was only a bit shorter, a bit slimmer than Dean. “I’m just happy to speak with you again, and tell you the truth.”

Dean left Cas behind, feeling drained and empty. Cas dropped back down to the bed, burying his face in his hands. His eyes were too dry to cry.

***

Days passed with Dean coming into the diner every few days, ordering his food to go. Cas took extra care in preparing his burger or meatloaf, depending on the day and his order. He’d often slip an extra piece of pie in the bag, or a short note on a napkin.

“Damnit, Sammy,” Dean swore into the phone. “He’s a dude.”

“Technically, you said they’re genderless beings of energy,” his younger brother chirped at him. Stupid kid and his college education and stupid memory.

“Yeah, well he’s in a dude body,” Dean grimaced, discovering the small box with apple pie inside. His brows rose in surprise. 

“You’d rather Cassie was just dead?” Sam asked, sounding uncertain.

“Yes,” Dean said roughly, taking a bite full of tender apple pie. The pies hadn't been this good since Cassie had passed. “Fuck, I mean, no.”

“Uh-huh, right,” Sam replied. 

“I don’t know.”

“Is it really that big of a deal,” Sam sighed at his brother. Their father had been a very opinionated man, and his brother still clung to some of their dad’s military strict views. “The guy evidently cares about you a lot. Mom would like to meet him, I know.”

“Mom wanted to meet Cassie – “

“Dean.”

Dean dropped his fork, leaning back in his office chair. He could see Bobby and Garth through the window, two cars jacked up on the lifts as he ran his hand through his short cropped hair. He groaned. “I mean, he’s not even like some pretty-boy twink or girly boy, Sam. He’s…”

“A man?” Sam supplied with a smile. “You can put him in a skirt and high heels, but he’s still gonna have a dick, Dean. You’re such an asshole homophobe.”

“Hey!” Dean protested. “That is not what this is about. I don’t judge. You love who you love. If two dudes wanna do the nasty, more power to ‘em, but I’m not. I'm not. I like women. With tits. And you know, not dicks.”

“Okay, okay, alright. But like, what’s the new vessel look like?”

Dean tucked the phone against his shoulder.

“Late thirties, early forties, maybe. Black hair and those stupid blue eyes. I should’a known from those alone. Same exact eyes as Cassie,” he muttered. “I mean he’s not a bad looking dude...”

“Mhm?” Sam pressed, knowing his older brother hadn’t ever been as happy as when he had told Sam that he was proposing to Cassie. Sam had even flown out for the funeral, though they'd only met over Skype.

“Shut up,” Dean growled reflexively. “Ain’t nothing happening.”

“You miss her. You guys did a lot together, Dean, and I don’t mean just sex. You were going to get married. You were living a life together. You can’t just let that get away,” Sam said. “Go see a movie, have dinner, go for a drive. Just talk to the guy.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look, Dean, I gotta go. Madison is here to pick me up for study group. At least talk to him.”

“We’ll see,” Dean begrudgingly agreed. “Bye, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam's voice echoed out before the connection clicked off.

He hung up the office phone and picked back up the carton of pie. He took another bite, realizing he hadn’t ordered pie, but it was cherry and delicious.

***

Cas wasn’t expecting Dean to break their silence any time soon. They would lock eyes at the diner while Cas served up fresh coffee during the rush hours. Cas would sneak slices of pie or little extras when he knew the order was for Dean. He worked hard, rebuilding his connections to the community, making his town home again.

Nights off weren’t Cas’s favorite. He hadn’t made as many friends, and he was still responsible for his own bills. He was watching on documentary on human sexuality when his phone buzzed on the bedside table.

[Wanna get dinner sometime?]

He knew it was from Dean. The number of contacts on his phone consisted of Ellen’s personal phone, the diner, and Dean. He was about to respond when another text came through.

[The new Star Wars is out, too. We could do a movie.]

Dean had been so excited for Cas to watch the Star Wars movies with him. She found them highly inaccurate having actually traveled through space, but Dean’s passion had endeared them to her. Taking the olive branch, Cas texted back.

[I’m off again on Thursday. Would that work for you? – Cas]

His heart pounded as he held the phone, watching the minutes tick over. He didn’t understand why people preferred this method of communication when phone calls were so much quicker, but he would work with whatever worked for Dean.

[Sure. I’ll pick you up after I get off work.]

***

Cas had shaved, fixed his hair, and fiddled with the jacket he’d put over a tee shirt. He’d begged Ellen and Charlie to help him pick something appropriate for a date. He checked himself in the mirror again, sighing at himself. The navy tee did make his eyes bluer. 

He traced a finger over the photograph that he'd recovered. He kept it tucked in the mirror over the motel room’s desk. It was a picture of Cassie and Dean at the diner’s Christmas party last year, before the accident. Cas realized he’d been back for almost another year.

A knock at the door broke him out of his memories. Steeling himself for rejection, he opened the door. Dean had his hand raised, as if to knock again. Cas stared, drinking in the sight of his ex-fiance. Dean had cleaned up after work and wore a red button down with his jeans. Cas had always liked the shirt.

“Hello, Dean,” he said.

“Ah,” Dean said, blinking at Cas. He looked behind himself, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hi. You, uh, ready to go? I figured we could go to Benny's and then the Super 8.”

Cas nodded, stepping outside. 

“That sounds good,” Cas said, letting a small spark of hope begin to grow. Benny's was the place they’d gone for their first ‘official’ date. It was a popular Cajun themed restaurant, and Benny had long been one of Dean's best friends.

There was an awkward shuffle at the car where Dean was unsure if he was still supposed to open the car door for Cas. His brother would have been laughing at him for acting like such a doofus, but he’d never been on a date with another guy. He didn’t have any gay friends (aside from Charlie) or any real experience with same-sex relationships aside from porn. 

Sam had warned him off the internet, saying that it didn’t matter what other people did. It was his and Cas’s relationship, and they would work through the rules themselves. Still, it was hard for Dean not to have the stereotypical gender roles in place to guide him. 

“How’s Sam? Your mom?” Cas asked, trying to be polite, but also genuinely curious. He’d met Sam over video chat several times, and spoken on the phone to Dean’s mother once, but neither in person. 

Cas was pleased to see the small quirk of a grin growing on Dean’s face.

“Sam’s good. Real good, finally got up the balls to ask his crush out,” he said, hand tapping on the steering wheel along to the radio. “Been together, three months now?”

“Tell him I said congratulations,” Cas said. “I know he spoke very highly of her.”

“You could tell him yourself, y’know,” Dean suggested. “Sam’s a good kid, not a bad friend to have. He’s asked about you too.”

“You told him?” Cas wondered.

“Uh, yeah, when you first came back, and he’ll ask sometimes.” Dean shifted in the driver’s seat. “I haven’t told Mom. Missed a few Sunday dinners, but she’s been dating that guy Art from her spin class.”

“The one with the tattoo?”

They both laughed, looking at one another, remembering that Arthur Ketch had a bizarre hand tattoo.

“Yeah,” Dean said, grinning wide now. “The roses came back in. Wasn’t sure if they would last summer. I didn’t really spend much time on the garden, but they came back anyway.”

“And the vegetable garden?”

“The rabbit food?” Dean teased, feeling an ache in his heart as the familiarity between them awoke. “Yeah, some of it came back in. Had more tomatoes than I knew what to do with, and I had to bring ‘em into the shop to get rid of ‘em before they went bad. It was a good idea, you know, working on the garden.”

Cas hummed, looking out the window. He missed the days he had off, where he’d work in the yard or the kitchen. He liked the way things grew from the earth and the wildlife that came with living in a rural area.

Benny's was busy as usual. It was one of the nicer restaurants in town. They were seated toward the bar, and Dean ordered beers instead of wine. Cas didn’t protest. He was just happy to be with Dean, to be near him again.

“So, uh,” Dean said, a small flush under his freckled cheeks. He drummed his fingers on the table, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas laughed softly. “I told you I’m not expecting anything to be the same. Starting fresh, right? Tell me, did you ever get that ’67 VW working?”

And just like that, Dean was relaxed as he launched into how he was restoring the Volkswagon bus. It had been just a shell when he’d started. It was a safe topic, and it lead to stories about his coworkers at the shop.

They stuck to safe topics while they ate, then headed for the movie. In the dark of the theater, Cas reveled in the closeness of Dean. He’d been happy with the body heat against his arm when he felt a warm calloused hand settle over his on the armrest. Cas turned to look at Dean who kept his eyes on the screen as they shifted their hands, lacing their fingers together.

In the darkness, Dean could focus on the warmth of Cas’s skin, the softness of her - his - hands. Cas missed several scenes of the movie as his heart raced, and his entire focus shifted to the dry warmth of Dean’s palm. In the darkness, his vessel didn’t matter. When the lights pulled up, Dean had withdrawn again. Instead of chattering away like he usually did after a movie, Dean was quiet. 

He was lost in his thoughts as he drove back to Cas’s motel room. Reconciling Cas with the woman he’d loved was one of the most difficult things he thought he would ever face. It was terrifying how easy the date had been. Cas’s rumbling voice was pleasant, and his gummy smile infectious. He still stared a bit too long and retained that naive quality Dean had grown to love.

Dean got out of the car to open the door for Cas even though the other man had already begun to let himself out. He walked Cas to his room. He scratched at his chin, uncertain how to feel.

“That was good, yeah?” he said, scuffing his boot against the sidewalk.

Cas smiled, nodding. “It was very pleasurable to spend time with you again. I have missed it.”

Dean licked his lips as he wondered how he'd ever missed that Cas was something truly different. He’d had trouble keeping eye contact most of the night, but now, he couldn’t look away from Cas’s earnest eyes. He chewed his lip as he reached out for Cas’s arm. He squeezed it gently as he drew closer.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” he murmured, swallowing back the fear that threatened to make him run. Dean had sworn to himself to give this a shot, a real shot of seeing if the spark between them was still there.

Cas felt the soft warm breath against his lips, and his eyes fluttered closed. Dean’s mouth was warm and dry as he kissed him, lingering a bit too long to be considered chaste. Their lips parted. Cas’s lips were soft and full, warm and human. It hadn’t been all that different from kissing a woman. Cassie had been tall, and Cas was about the same height. The stubble wasn’t as odd as Dean had expected.

Dean leaned in again, and Cas let out a surprised gasp as Dean’s other hand grasped his waist, turning the embrace into something more intimate. They kissed slowly, questioningly. Dean brushed his nose against Cas’s, leaning their foreheads together.

“Fuck, Cas, I missed you,” he whispered, voice deepened with emotion. 

“Dean.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, but…” Dean whispered. Cas nodded, holding his breath. 

“It’s okay,” Cas promised. “If you want to try. We can do anything, or nothing. Just, just whatever you're comfortable with.”

Dean just shook his head, tugging Cas close again with a hand on his neck. They kissed against Cas’s door, letting the night soften the edges of their newness/ Dean made a few awkward moves to paw at Cas’s chest, but settled his hands around his waist instead.

When they broke apart, breathless and panting, Dean found himself embarrassed again.

He cleared his throat, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

“This was nice,” he rasped.

“Yes,” Cas agreed. “Would you like to do it again sometime?” 

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Dean returned playfully. “I dunno, man.”

“I-” Cas stammered.

“Breathe, Cas. I’m just teasin’. Yeah, I’d like to see you again. I can’t say I’m suddenly into dick, but I was into you. Guess I still am, even if the wrapper’s changed. I'll text you about our schedules, try to do something soon.”

Cas grinned, bubbling with joy. Dean was giving him a chance.

“Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Drive safely.”

Dean was still working to tune out his dad's bigoted opinions, but as he watched Cas wave good-bye, he figured it wasn't all that different, kissing Cas and kissing Cassie. Maybe they could make things work. After all, the person he loved was alive.


End file.
